


when the wolfsbane blooms

by dollydolittle



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Community: kradamadness, Little Red Riding Hood AU, M/M, Prompt: wild, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 01:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollydolittle/pseuds/dollydolittle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even those who are pure of heart, and say their prayers at night, can become a wolf, when the wolfsbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright. -Lon Chaney, Jr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when the wolfsbane blooms

  
“Are you sure you’re okay going alone, sweetie?”  
  
Kris looked up from tying his sneakers and smiled at his mom, still in her bathrobe and sniffing miserably with the cold she had caught from her mother. “I can make it to Grandma’s alright, Mama, promise.”  
  
He rose to his feet and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I just don’t want you getting sick,” she said, following him to the door.  
  
“I’ve _been_ sick,” Kris pointed out, pulling on his Razorbacks hoodie, “I’m the one who got Grandma sick, remember?”  
  
She rolled her eyes at him, and handed him the grocery bag full of supplies he was supposed to bring to his grandmother. “Make sure she’s staying in bed. And that she has the phone near her in case of emergency. Oh, and Kristopher, you make sure she gets a whole bowl of soup in her before you come home, you hear me?”  
  
“Yes, Mama.”   
  
“I wish you’d take the car.”  
  
“Nah, it’s making a funny noise. I’ll wait ‘til Dad takes a look at it.” Kris loaded the bag into his bike’s basket, and glanced back at her. She was clutching her robe shut against the chill of the open garage and he felt a rush of affection fill him, followed by a strange sense of loss. He wasn’t sure what it was, there was just, suddenly and irrationally, a heaviness in his chest when he looked at her. “I love you.”  
  
She tilted her head to the side, hair just brushing her shoulders, and her smile was soft and fond and just a little crooked. Kris had gotten her smile. “I love you, too, sweetie. Now, get going, I want you back by dark,” she waved a hand at him and as suddenly as the feeling had come, it was gone.  
  
He grinned. “Alright, alright, I’m going!” Kris swung his leg over the bike and put his Converse to the pedals and he was gone.  
  
*  
  
It would be ten miles to his grandma’s house if he took the roads, but there was a dirt path through the woods, that took about three miles off the trip.  
  
There was something about the forest that day. Kris paused slightly, kicking up dust with his wheels as he braked, and frowned. It seemed darker and wilder than usual, and Kris shook his head and told himself he was being ridiculous.  
  
But the sensation got worse the farther into the trees he went. He couldn’t stop the feeling that he was being watched, followed… His heart started beating faster, and he couldn’t blame it on the exercise, not even with the speed at which he was pedaling.   
  
He caught a flash of blue in his peripheral and it threw him off. His tire hit something -a root, a fallen branch, _something_ \- and he tumbled to the ground. He lay there, trying to catch his breath and calm down. He was imagining the growling and the rustling. There was nothing in the woods that could harm him. He had ridden through here, on the same path, so many times… Kris didn’t know what was wrong with him.  
  
He sat up finally and looked around. There was, as he had told himself, nothing there but him and his bike. He sighed and stood, brushing the dirt and leaves from the back of his pants. “Ah,” Kris hissed, looking at his hands. His palms were slightly scraped, enough that blood had welled up. “Shit.”  
  
There was nothing to do but continue on. His grandmother would have antibacterial ointment and band-aids, and he was man enough to stand the stinging for as long as it took to get there. Which, it seemed, as he righted his bike and realized the bag with the supplies had rolled away, would take a little longer than anticipated.  
  
Kris searched for a sign of white plastic in the brown of the underbrush. He finally saw it yards off the path, right next to the patch of blue that had startled him. “What the…?” He felt his eyebrows raise with the question, confused as to how that bag had managed to get all the way over there.  
  
With the autumn chill in the air, Kris hunched further into his hoodie and forged through the stripped bushes, leaves crunching under his feet, until he reached the bag. He picked it up, checking that the cough drops, Sudafed, and Thermos of his mom’s chicken noodle soup was still in tact, and then frowned at the flowers. He reached down, touching the petals curiously.  
  
“It’s called wolfsbane.”  
  
Kris jumped at the voice and turned. The man was sitting on a fallen tree and looking completely out of place. “What?” Kris asked, because it was all he could think of.  
  
“The flower,” the man said, rising in one smooth motion and he started walking toward Kris.  
  
Kris thought he should back away, but he couldn’t move, caught by the way the man seemed to slink across the forest floor. The man came to stop right in front of Kris, and Kris had to tilt his head back to stare up into intense blue eyes. His heart froze in his chest and he reminded himself to breathe. Kris licked his lips and the man’s pupils expanded, black overtaking the blue as his eyes followed the movement.   
  
The man moved even closer, and Kris blurted out, “It’s weird.”  
  
“What is?”  
  
Kris wanted to say many things. It was weird that the other man was in the woods. It was weird that he was dressed in only a black t-shirt and leather pants. It was weird that he was wearing heeled boots to go hiking. What Kris did say was, “It’s fall, flowers don’t grow.”  
  
The man tilted his head to the side to regard Kris with a smirk on his face. “It’s a full moon tonight,” he told Kris, which wasn’t an answer at all. He took a step back and plucked a stem from the plant, holding it out to Kris.   
  
Kris took it without breaking eye contact. “Where did you come from?”  
  
He bared his white teeth in a grin and laughed. “California.” He reclaimed his step, crowding into Kris’ space. “I’m Adam.”  
  
“Kris.”  
  
“Kris,” Adam repeated, “You smell nice.”  
  
Kris blinked, unsure. “Um, thank you? You, um,” he searched for some compliment, “you have big hands?” And then he groaned and smacked himself in the forehead, because clearly his brain wasn’t working. And then again, because he’d totally crushed the wolfsbane. “Ow.” His hand was tingling, blue petals rubbing into his scrapes, and then a thought came niggling to him through the haze. “Isn’t wolfsbane poisonous?” he demanded, starting to panic.  
  
Adam laughed again, “You’ll survive.”  
  
“Wha-” He was cut off by Adam’s hands on his face. A thumb traced his lips and Kris’ tongue darted out involuntarily.  
  
Adam sucked in a breath and shook his head, taking a few steps back. “You look like you’re on your way somewhere.”  
  
Kris shook his head also, and it was like the cold air cleared his head in an instant. He went red, could feel himself blush, and he nodded jerkily. “My grandma’s,“ he held up the bag, “She’s sick.”  
  
“That’s sweet.”  
  
Kris shrugged, “I guess.”  
  
“Well, _I_ guess I’ll let you go for now.” Adam backed up further, and Kris shivered at the way he seemed to blend into the forest. “It’s getting late.”  
  
*  
  
“Honey, are you okay?”  
  
His grandmother’s voice was rough with a sore throat, but she was looking at him with concerned brown eyes. Kris felt himself nod, but the actions seemed far away, as if someone else was causing it to happen. He lifted a spoonful of soup to his grandma’s lips and replied, “I’m fine.”  
  
“You’re not getting sick again, are you?” she inquired, looking more worried as she took the bowl of soup from him.  
  
He shook his head, smiling a little. “No, I’m fine. Just…” he trailed off, not sure what he was. He felt out of himself, like he was dreaming this whole day. Ever since his encounter with Adam in the woods, it had simply seemed unreal.  
  
“Just what?’ Grandma prompted.  
  
“I don’t know. I just feel _different_ today.” He didn’t know how to explain it. “I feel like I’m waiting for something to happen, but I have no idea what.”  
  
“Hmm,” she hummed, taking a sip of soup, “You’ll just have to wait and see, Kris. But I do have an idea of what might happen if you don’t get home soon.” Her eyes twinkled and Kris found himself laughing.  
  
“Alright, alright, I’ll get out of your hair, G-ma,” he said, leaning over to kiss her forehead, “Love you.”  
  
“Love you, too, honey. Get home safe.”   
  
Kris just smiled, taking her in the way he had his mother that afternoon. “Bye, Grandma, get better.”  
  
*  
  
The dreamy feeling was getting stronger the more the sun disappeared. Kris had decided to take the road home, but as he got closer to the entrance of the wooded path, he started second-guessing himself. It would be dark by the time he made it back. The question was, did he want to get there sooner or later, and his mother’s answer to that question would be sooner.  
  
The forest was darker, wilder, and it should have been more foreboding. He should have that feeling of dread he’d felt when he’d entered earlier that day. But all Kris felt was anticipation.  
  
He found himself lying on the forest floor for the second time, not sure how it had happened or how long he’d been there. It was disconcerting, or, it should have been, but again, Kris felt nothing.  
  
Tingling. Numb. He focused on breathing, in and out. In and out.  
  
There was a scent in the air, and Kris turned his head to the side, surprised to see himself surrounded by dozens of wolfsbane clusters, all blue and purple. They looked like they were glowing in the moonlight.  
  
When had it gotten so dark?  
  
He looked up, through bare branches, to the night sky. The moon hung full and white among the stars and to Kris, it seemed like it was calling to him. “I’m coming,” he whispered to the moon, and there was a part of his brain, tiny and disappearing quickly that wondered where he was going.  
  
Leaves rustled, distracting him, and he glanced to the side and felt a jolt of fear. There was a wolf there, where no wolf should be. It was huge and black and it walked toward him slowly, but focused.  
  
It stopped above his head, and looked at him, and Kris could see intelligence in its blue eyes and he knew everything was going to be okay.   
  
Then the wolf opened its mouth, pink tongue lolling and sharp teeth bared, and Kris giggled. It reminded him of a story, a fairy-tale. “What big teeth you have,” he said, and giggled again.  
  
The wolf did, too, huffing like it could understand, and nosed at Kris’ neck, biting down on the red fabric there and tugged, growling. Kris agreed, suddenly hot, and he wiggled out of the hoodie, watching the wolf as it flung the sweatshirt across the woods as if it had offended him.  
  
Kris thought the wolf was definitely male. He stroked his fingers through thick fur as the wolf laid down beside him, rubbing against Kris’ body, and Kris pressed back, suddenly on fire.  
  
He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t remember how to talk. The moon was staring at him, waiting, and Kris buried his face against the wolf’s neck and screamed and screamed and screamed.  
  
The wolf howled.  
  
*  
  
“Where are we?” Kris asked, voice hoarse.  
  
Adam raised his head from Kris’ chest and looked around, sniffing. “Oklahoma.” He put his head back down, breathing into Kris’ neck. “God, you smell so good.”  
  
“So do you,” Kris said quietly, and he lets himself pet Adam’s hair. It was softer than it looked, and Adam gave a contented sigh and Kris felt a tongue against his pulse point. “I should be freaking out.”  
  
He had woken up in another state. He thought he remembered running through woods and fields on four paws, with fur and teeth. He was certain he’d never see his family again. He was naked and underneath another man. Kris should definitely freak out.  
  
“You won’t,” Adam murmured, and Kris shivered at the rasp of soft lips, “That’s not how it works.”  
  
“How _does_ it work?” Kris wrapped his arms around Adam and gripped his hair, pulling his head up so that Kris could meet his eyes.  
  
“You’ll never be alone now, you’re safe.”   
  
“I wasn’t alone,” Kris pointed out, confused, “I had my family.” He thought of his mother and grandmother, who he had said good-bye to, and his father and brother, who he hadn’t. They would never know what had happened to him. He felt a pang of regret, for the worry and sadness they’d feel when his bike was found, his hoodie, but it faded, like it had been years apart instead of hours.  
  
“It’s not the same,” Adam said matter-of-factly, “Now you have a pack.” Adam nipped at his jaw and then his lower lip, sucking it in, and Kris felt his entire body go pliant and mold itself to Adam’s. “A mate,” Adam whispered, and the intent in his voice, the absolute _possession_ laced through it, made Kris crazy with need.  
  
He panted into Adam’s mouth, arching upward to feel Adam’s erection press against his own, and he heard himself whimper. “Adam!”  
  
“Mine,” Adam growled, grinding down.  
  
“Yes,” Kris said, biting at his ear, “Yours.”  
  
end  
  



End file.
